


Rendezvous

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot, a bit of angst, smut in Venice, smut on holiday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 03:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21047387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: A one shot requested on Tumblr by @fyrecrafted who asked about Tom in an alley.....





	Rendezvous

“Come on. Let’s dance.”

You looked up from your after-dinner latte to see Tom standing before you, hand out in invitation, his cheeky smile showing just a hint of shyness. Rose-gold street-lights lit the Venetian piazza, casting an air of shadows and romance over the entire area, cloaking it in mystery.

The two of you had spent a dreamy day together, exploring the picturesque Island of Sant Erasmo. The biggest island in the lagoon, Sant Erasmo was famed for its delicious local produce and its wine. After meeting the local farmers and hearing about their lives and crops, you had enjoyed a private vineyard tour and wine tasting. It had been such a leisurely, beautiful day. You had tamped down your annoyance when dinner time came. You’d wanted your day with Tom to last forever.

Helplessly, you suddenly felt your time together slipping through your hands, like sand through an hourglass.

Too fast.

The anxiety of it all had churned in your stomach all through dinner – a delicious seafood risotto with a side of freshly baked herbed breadtsicks.

“Why?”

“Because we can. Everyone else is,” he insisted, a grin tugging at his lips. It occurred to you that you had seldom seen him so carefree. “I love to dance, you know,” he added, almost shyly.

You shifted, trying to fight the battle between your wish to dance and your intense discomfort at doing anything like dancing in public.

Finally the boyish look on Tom’s handsome face won you over and you took his hand. His fingers closed around yours; warm, reassuring. He pulled you towards him, spun you around for a second. Giddy, you leaned into him as the string quartet outside the café started to play a gentle waltz. You breathed in the now-familliar scent of him, bergamot and the tang of coffee and just a kiss of citrus.

“This is absurd.” But you rested your free hand on his shoulder just the same, and let him lead you . Heat radiated off his body through the white linen shirt he wore, and you looked down at your feet. “When was the first time you waltzed?”

“Getting ready for Cranford.”

You looked up into his eyes. They looked almost blue-black in the half-light as he met your gaze. You thought of the second time he’d waltzed on screen, in Crimson Peak. He and Mia had practically set the cinema screen on fire with their antics, in and out of bed.

“I sometimes – and it’s ridiculous – forget that you’re so…. Famous,” you breathed as he swayed you gently, confidently.

“Good.” His gaze dropped to your mouth, and that gorgeous tumble of copper-gold hair fell into his face, a little long, a little messy. The way you liked it. “That’s what I wanted.”

The expression on his face – so naked suddenly, not a trace of artifice – made you bold suddenly. Or perhaps it was the alcohol. But you were in Venice with a man who made your heart sing. You were dancing a waltz in a piazza. Rose-gold light lit everything, and just for now, you would be brave. You would believe in magic, and you would believe in happy endings.

And you wouldn’t think further than this man in your arms. He was solid and real and right now, he was yours.

Tears burned your eyes as your heart constricted. Yes, you would be brave.

And you would pay whatever cost would be levied later.

“Is that all you want?” You tucked his tumbled hair back behind his ear. It felt so soft. An unwruly curl sprang forward.

You’d surprised him. You knew because he held still for a long moment before continuing with the waltz. Someone else might not to have noticed the slip, but you did. In some ways, you had never stopped noticing everything about him, ever since the day you’d met.

“Oh, darling. You know what I want.” His words were so soft, they were nearly carried away by the notes form the nearby violins. But still you caught them. “You.” He swallowed and you watched the movement of his throat, transfixed for a second. “Any way I can get you. Any way you’ll have me.”

His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you a fraction closer. You pressed your face into his neck, knowing you had reached a tipping point. 

He wanted to make love to you. 

“Tonight?” Your words came out squeakier than you’d hoped. You wondered if he’d laugh.

He didn’t.

“Tonight,” he confirmed.

You’d been seeing each other a while. Your schedule as a costume designer and his as an actor meant weekends meeting in random cities were a given, but this was easily the most romantic place you’d rendezvoused. Tom’s suggestion. 

You’d lay together all night, but you’d held back on giving yourself to him fully. What if it didn’t work out. What if you had to dress him one day, knowing he was married to another woman. What if-

You stopped dancing, and he mirrored you . You both held still for a long moment. You closed your eyes, knowing that your decision was about to change everything between you two. Maybe forever.

Breathing in, you opened your eyes again. Tom stood before you still, so solid and real. And yours, for now anyway.

And you would take the now, for as long as it lasted. “Tom.”

“Hmm.” He brushed his lips over yours, gently, a simple kiss without pressure, but a question all the same. He tasted of chocolate.

“Take me back to the hotel. Right now.” Before you could lose your nerve.

* * * * *

The rosy streetlights of Venice winked at you both as Tom navigated the maze of little streets. People gathered here and there, but the late hour meant it was mostly quiet. You could smell the lagoon, the heady scent of wine, the richness of chocolate and cream.

Tom stopped in a quiet alley to get his bearings. Behind him, the moon shone down on you both, bright and silent, hanging like a lightbulb in the black fabric of the night sky.

You slipped your arms around him as he pulled his phone from his pocket, bringing up Google maps. “Hmmmm. I swear it was just the next street along….”

The alley was silent and dark. And really quite nice, as alleys went. Closed shop windows were lined with flower boxes. And Tom smelled of dark chocolate and bergamot, and it was your favourite scent. You felt… brave. Bold. Aroused.

“What if we didn’t wait until we found the hotel? “ you asked.

His gaze shot to yours, his poet’s mouth opening slightly in surprise. “Darling-”

All the pent up desire you’d felt for this man in the months you’d been seeing each other crashed out of you like a dam bursting. You grabbed the lapels of his button-down shirt - Tom in a linen shirt with no tie, and the sleeves rolled to his elbows just about killed you - and pressed your mouth to his.

Dimly, you heard the thud as his phone fell to the street floor, unnoticed. He slid his hands around your waist and pressed you to him, and you thrilled to the evidence of his need for you pressing urgently against your stomach. “Tom,” you murmured, aching already.

“Are you sure?” he bit off against your mouth, and you thought he sounded like a man on the edge of control. “Be sure.”

He pulled back and gazed into your eyes, and you saw something just a tiny bit feral there. It made the pulsing need inside you kick up several notches.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With a low growl in his throat, Tom scooped you up. You scissored your legs around his waist as he ravaged your mouth, the day’s growth of whiskers on his cheeks scraping at you pleasantly. He moved his attention down to your neck and you arched to improve his access. 

Tom moaned your name as you squeezed a hand between your body to cup him through his jeans.

“Want you,” you murmured. 

With difficulty, Tom leaned you against the brick wall, keeping you held up with one arm whilst he undid the fly of his jeans with the other. You tugged his shirt tails out of the denim, covering him a little, and then you let yourself play.

He fell into your hand, hot and heavy and large, and you savoured the shuddering breath he let out when you palmed him, stroking until you found a rhythm that made him chant your name like a prayer. He boosted you up higher and you used your free hand to pop open the buttons of your shirt dress so he could lavish attention on your breasts. Your nipples peaked to the slight breeze of the Venetian night. His tongue was warm and wet and his touch there sent a direct spiral down between your legs.

“Now,” you whispered urgently. You kept one arm around his neck, anchoring yourself as he reached down and toyed with you, working your thin cotton panties aside to feel how wet you were. You knew what he’d find and your heart raced as he groaned against your neck.

A hot rush of pleasure filled you as he circled the tight bud at the apex of your body. And the orgasm made you gasp out loud, but you were beyond caring if you were discovered.

Tom brushed a kiss over your mouth before he slid slowly, painfully slowly, inside you. You tilted your hips up just a little, and he pushed in to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he breathed, and the expletive in that cut-glass British accent just destroyed you.

Then he started to move, bottoming out each time he thrust back in, and all coherent thought flew out of your head.

It was over quickly, both of you too aroused to last long. Your muscles convulsed around him and you bit down on the curve where his neck met his shoulder to keep from crying out. Moments later, Tom followed you over the cliff, groaning into your hair.

You wound down slowly together, floating back to Earth. Tom gently set you back on the ground, frowning.

“That’s wasn’t my intention for our first time, darling.”

You grinned, leaning up to kiss him, your body still trembling from the tiny aftershocks of really good sex. “No, but now we can enjoy round two at our leisure in the hotel.”

His delighted laugh echoed into the balmy Venetian night, and you held hands and walked the rest of the way back together.


End file.
